


Clintasha Advent 2018

by zombie_socks



Series: Clintasha Advent Calendars [3]
Category: Black Widow (Comics), Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt, unedited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-05 09:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 8,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16807615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombie_socks/pseuds/zombie_socks
Summary: A series of prompts filled for Clintasha Advent on Tumblr





	1. Budapest

The uniting of cities, of Buda and Pest, had always amused Natasha when she thought back on it. It was a city of meetings, of compromise, of bridges built. Yet it had its past, its scrapes and bruises, war wounds still healing. 

She’d met him there. Or rather, he’d met her. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him, the shadowy hawk flying above her all across Europe. But it was there the bird chose to swoop down for his prey. Only she was no vole or rabbit for him to catch. She fought him back, knives giving way to fists, fists to nails, nails to teeth. They attacked with everything they had, a worthy opponent, if not an even match. 

But she’d been so tired those days. And when he gained the advantage, poised for the final blow, she’d ceased fighting. 

It was his eyes, those lovely, gorgeous blue-green eyes, that she has never been able to forget. They  _ saw  _ her. And instead of finishing the fight, continuing the war, he extended his hand, a bridge between Buda and Pest. 


	2. Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Music is a universal language

“I refuse to believe that’s true.” 

Natalia blinked at him, almost confused by the statement. “It is true.” 

“You’ve never been to a concert?” Agent Barton’s brow was still furrowed. “That’s unacceptable.” 

Natalia tried not to wince at the phrase. Unacceptable. That meant punishment. 

“We’re remedying this right now.” The agent took out his phone and dialed what must’ve been a familiar number. “Georgey, hi. Yeah. Can you tell me who’s playing tonight?” He paused before breaking into that wide grin of his. She found it to be peculiar. “Awesome. Two tickets, please.” 

The energy was the first thing to hit her. The air was positively electric. Bodies moved to the music as if in some choreographed dance that despite the movements’ simplicies, the shear mass of participants gave it great merit. She could feel the music in her chest more than hear it. Everything was so  _ loud _ yet the actual volume didn’t even faze her. The music was nothing like the classical genre she’d grown up with, the swaying nothing like she’d been taught. Yet it felt familiar. It felt good. Freeing. 

“Isn’t this great?” Agent Barton shouted from beside her. She could barely hear him over the roar of the crowd as the band finished their set. 

Maybe it was the excitement of the setting or that dastardly hopeful look in his eyes, but she nodded. And oddly enough, she found her answer to be true. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for reading and commenting! These will probably be a little short this year as I have a full-time job + a side gig keeping me busy. But I hope you all enjoy these little drabbles!


	3. Firsts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First things firsts

Firsts come in both small and large moments. 

Clint clearly remembered the first time she laughed, a real laugh full of joy and pure amusement. He remembered thinking it was like a bell: crisp, clear, yet big enough to be heard through a town square. 

She remembers their first date. The first official one, anyway. Pepper had arranged it, unbeknownst to either of them. Nat’s still impressed at that feat. They ate a nice dinner served in the privacy of the Tower. He’d just gotten cleared for active duty after the whole thing with Loki. She remembers kissing him that night too, and feeling like it was the first time. 

She remembers the first time she made him smile. She’d told a stupid joke, made a pun over the comms that had Coulson’s eyes rolling. And there Clint was beside her, grin splitting his face. 

He remembers their first fight, their first night sleeping together. He remembers never realizing before just how deeply he loves her. 

She remembers their first death scare, first I love you. She remembers realizing for the first time that she’d never take it back. 

Firsts come in both small and large moments. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!! <3


	4. Troupes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was only one bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: not quite explicit content, but things get a little steamy. Proceed at your own risk.

The mission had gone to shit. Bad intel, live bombs, stupid AIM agents in their stupid yellow beekeeper suits. Natasha was more than ready to take a hot shower and collapse into a nice warm bed.

But the shitty mission continued when she and Clint were unable to make their rendezvous and were left trying to find a hotel for the night. Some seedy hovel later revealed the universe was well and truly out to get her because the only available room had only one bed.

“I’ll take the floor,” Clint offered, closing the door behind them.

Natasha shook her head. “You got stabbed, you get the bed.”

“It barely grazed me. I don’t think we can call it ‘stabbed.’”

“You bled.”

“And you took out four AIM guys with some serious high kicks, and don’t think for a second I didn’t see you wince when you made contact with the fourth. I know what kind of bruising hand-to-hand can do, Nat.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine. We’ll share it.”

He tried too late to school his features.

It was a reaction that both intrigued and excited her. A desire to sleep with her partner had been there largely from the start, after he’d spared her life. Back then it was an effort to pay off the debt she owed him. Now…

He was handsome, sure. Tall, broad shoulders, big all-American blue eyes. And that smile, the one he seemed to share with everyone yet still make feel special, exclusive, just for her. He was kind, deceptively smart, and had a wicked sense of humor. In short, she liked him. And based on the looks she caught, the glances he thought he’d stolen, he seemed to be interested in her as well.

“I can take the floor. It’s not-”

She cut him off by taking his hand and leading him to sit on the bed. “I’m trying to make a move here, hot shot,” she explained, proceeding to straddle his lap. “Are you going to shut up and let me?”

He wet his lips, that bit of shock fading rapidly from his eyes and being replaced with a growing playful glint, decked in smoldering blue-greens. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” She kissed him. And oh God it felt good to do so. Hot, attentive. She’d rarely been kissed this way, if ever. It fueled the need building inside her.

Clint leaned back, taking her with him, the bed springs protesting the moment. She pulled away at their obnoxious squeaking. “Suppose the neighbors won’t have to guess what we’re doing.”

He raised a brow. “You think I’d let you ravish me without making an honest man of me first,” he teased.

“Play your cards right,” she mumbled against his ear, “and it won’t be just the springs the neighbors hear.”

He groaned; she could feel it vibrating in where her chest met his. “You’re killing me, Tasha.”

She smiled, rolling her eyes at him, and returning to making out.

But she’d end up being right. The springs were not the only thing the neighbors had to complain about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for reading! I promise to answer your wonderful comments soon!


	5. Hurt and Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Injured body, injured spirit.

“You’re limping,” she pointed out.

He shrugged, tossing his bag and quiver into his closet. “And you’ve broken into my apartment.”

She stood from his couch, the very essence of grace as she unfolded and entered his space. “Knife or bullet?”

“Neither.” He moved around her, stalking to the kitchen for some water and a snack. It’d been a bullshit mission. Barely challenging for the newbie he was supposed to be training. But then said newbie fired on their target far too early and the whole thing had blown up. Worst part was, Clint had tripped. Yeah, just tripped, and sprained his ankle. His medical file now listed sprained ankle as a cause for “off active duty.” Three weeks too.

Nat came up behind him and slid her arms around his middle, resting her face on his back. “What’s wrong?”

He sighed, abandoning the glass he’d gotten out for water in the well of the sink. “I’m an old, old man, Tasha. Getting old man injuries.”

She hummed into his shoulder blade. “But you’re my big, strong, old, old man. And no matter how you get hurt, I’ll always be here to nurse you back to health.”

He scoffed. “Should've guessed you already knew.” He filled the glass with tap water. “Hill?”

She nodded, knowing her could feel the movement on his back. “I gave you the chance to lie.”

“There’s no sense lying to you, Nat.” He took a drink before returning the glass to the sink and turning in her arms to hold her close. “You mean it? About not ditching my clumsy, old man ass?”

She grinned and leaned up to kiss him. “Every word.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all! <3


	6. Free Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Art reflects life reflects art

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Nat's past sucked and there are mentions of some dark themes

It had started back at Halloween when Bruce had shown up as Dr. McCoy from Star Trek. She’d known of the show, of course, but her guardians into pop culture had largely been Clint and Coulson, the former more of a Star Wars man and the latter far more interested in old-school spy culture. So it wasn’t that she was unaware of the franchise, more just never paid it much mind. But after the Halloween party Tony had insisted they marathon every season of every series and because it was his tower and no one really minded, that’s what they did.

Thor found the Klingons fascinating, Tony connected with Kirk in the schmoozing ladies department - and some with Scotty in engineering even with as fantastical as it was, and Natasha was absolutely jealous of Uhura’s language abilities.

But it was when they’d waded their way through Next Gen and Deep Space and landed on Voyager that Nat had to stop watching. She made excuses for it, claiming to be too tired or having other plans. It wasn’t until she found Clint sitting on the end of her bed after coming out of a shower that she realized her pattern had not gone unnoticed.

“You okay?” he asked simply. He always knew when something was bothering her. No doubt he’d seen the way she’d minutely stiffened when Tony reminded the gang to regather for Star Trek night.

She could lie to him. But there would be no point. Hadn’t been for a long time. “Seven of Nine,” she answered, hoping he could read her enough to get it.

It took a moment for him to piece it together but he nodded eventually. “One of twenty-eight,” he responded. She knew then he understood.

The Borg took one’s self and made them a drone, an obedient slave to the one in charge. They were violent, inhumane, and it hurt to know that could’ve been her. It hurt too to see Seven recovering, to watch her try to regain her humanity. It all just hit a little too close to home.

Clint put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close, brushing his lips over her temple. “We could always watch something else up here, the two of us.”

Nat had to admit she liked the sound of that. But she was part of a team now and bonding with them was important. She needed to remember that her own humanity had been won back and with it came human things, like teams and teammates. And emotions.

She hugged Clint tightly before saying, “As tempting as that sounds, I think we should let them know the reason I’m… uncomfortable with the series.”

“That’s your call, Tasha.” He kissed her forehead again. “And I’ll support whatever you want to do.”

She looked up at him, his blue-green eyes her long-time favorite sight. “Thank you,” she whispered before leaning up to kiss him. It wasn’t long before the kiss grew with need, with heat, and before long they were tangled up in both each other and bed sheets, dozing off in each other’s arms.

Downstairs, Tony asked, “Are Clint and Nat joining us for our featured entertainment?”

Steve shook his head. “Passed their room on the way down. Trust me, they’re keeping themselves plenty entertained.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, my brother is the Star Trek fan and a few years ago we watched some Voyager together and I drew some parallels. So sorry ST fans if I botched anything up. 
> 
> Also thanks for reading! <3


	7. Colors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Color me back to life

So maybe it had started out as a joke. Once after a really bad mission, Clint offered to paint Nat’s toenails. He did each of them up in a different color, a perfect mishmash of the rainbow on each toe. She’d said she hated it, but it didn’t escape Clint’s notice she kept them painted that way for months.

Another bad mission. He offered again.

This time he painted a gradient going from dark to light purple across her feet. She said thank you but made no other comment.

Another bad mission. This time she asked.

He picked out reds, intending to do random shades, but she stilled his hand, shaking her head gently. No red then. He switched to greens. She said she liked it.

More bad missions. More toenail masterpieces.

Then Loki.

This time she offered. Anything, she though, anything to see him smile again. And it had been something over the years that made her smile.

He’d agreed with a nod and she took off his socks; the left had a hole in it. She did up his toenails in orange - the furthest from blue. Bright neon, tropical orange, golden sunset, sunny dandelion. Warm colors to put warmth back in his chest.

She looked up at him once finished and saw a sliver of that warmth return to his eyes as his lips curled ever so slightly upwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading and commenting! You all are the best!


	8. SHIELD and Avengers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes family is found

He knew this was what he’d been looking for. They were all gathered, eating take-out and mildly teasing on another. Pepper had her head on Tony’s shoulder. Sam was fighting Steve for the last dumpling. Thor sat next to Wanda, letting her braid his hair. This was family. This was that loud, joyous family he saw on TV growing up as a kid. The kind of happy gathering that everyone looked forward to.

He’d dreamed of being adopted into one of those while in the orphanage. He’d thought he’d found it at the circus, only to be betrayed by those closest to him. And when Phil pulled his ass out of the gutter and brought him into SHIELD, he thought maybe that dream had come true.

And it had, in a way. Phil was… Phil was family. Father, brother, that cool uncle, all in one. Fury was like a grumpy grandpa and Hill the little sister he’d always wanted. But a family of spies inherently had issues. Between a lack of trust, a dangerous job, a duty to a government bent on control, and the invasion of Hydra, their little family never formed the kind of bond that would weather all storms. Phil was dead, Fury underground, and Maria somewhere between the two, playing secretary for the Avengers (and relaying info back to Fury; Clint wasn’t stupid.)

But this, this ragtag group of nobodies and outcasts had all found each other.

A hand reached for his, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting go after getting his attention. “What are you thinking about?” Natasha signed.

Natasha. The bridge between the family he thought he’d had and the new one he’d found. If there was a bond to weather all storms it was theirs. And he could say that with confidence for it had weathered its fair share of storms.

“Nothing much,” he lied.

She raised a brow but leaned in to him; he put his arm around her shoulders.

“Tell me this will last,” he whispered to her after a long moment of watching Bruce, Scott, and Peitro play rock, paper, scissors, the latter winning a disproportionate amount of the time.

She hummed back, leaning into him more. “Nothing gold can stay.”

“You did.”

She looked back at him, full lips slowly forming a smile. “And I always will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endgame looks painful so have a happy Tower moment.
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


	9. Emotions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is this feeling?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Light warning for hints of Red Room manipulation

She was going mad. There was no other way to describe it. She felt things, things that would get her killed if she ever admitted to them. She laughed, giggled really. Smiled at all of his jokes despite the fact that they weren’t funny. She longed to be by his side when he was away. She wanted nothing more than to seek him out once she returned from her own missions.

She’d asked her assigned counselor what this could mean. The counselor had smiled and proceeded to talk of crushes and love and such ridiculous, childish things. She was not in love; she was incapable of love.

And yet she bit at her lip, suddenly insecure when he brushed back a strand of her hair.

And yet she leaned into his words, listening to his fantastical story of acrobatics from the circus.

And yet she found herself looking at his lips when he talked.

It was overwhelming. And it had gone on long enough.

She requested a long-term mission from Fury. He told her he’d think about it, still learning if he could trust her. She had a feeling she’d never truly be in his circle.

She asked Agent Coulson if she could have some time off. He’d suggested she accompany Agent Barton on his own requested vacation. She told him nevermind.

She tried to get her assigned counselor to restrict her from working with Barton. But the woman shook her head and informed her running from problems never worked.

So she went back to her quarters, shut the door, and tried to erase him from her mind. This type of behavior was foolish and she was going to get herself killed for it.

And yet she found herself answering the door when he knocked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading and commenting! <3


	10. Younger Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best comes with sacrifice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for implied self harm and child murder - Red Room stuff

The thrill of practice never ceased to amaze him. The smell of straw and stale popcorn lingering in his nose, dust motes swimming across empty rows of rusting bleachers, flies buzzing over animal dung. None of it mattered when the satisfying thunk of arrow after arrow settling in the wood target graced his ears. His fingers protested, his arms ached, and yet the addiction of seeing that center circle split perfectly in half over and over again overrode absolutely everything. He gave it his all with every single shot. Because missing would mean he was just average with a bow. Missing would deny him that high. Missing would mean failure.

Don’t be just good, he thought, be the best

…

The stakes at practice rose steadily with each round. One was eliminated every bloody turn. There was a wound in her side that she dutifully ignored. Any sign of weakness would be punished. She adored the adulation from her teachers for her being so tough, so brave. She was their favorite, she knew. But that position was only temporary, one mistake, one failure, and she’d join the bodies of the girls she’d beat. 

Don’t be just good, she thought, be the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	11. Senses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sense you near

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: adult content, mature sexual content

The first is touch. Hands trailing over steadily increasing swaths of bare skin. His are rough, hard calluses on his fingers that make them nearly numb to the sensation of touch. But he’s said before that he can feel her, likes to feel her. Smooth, pale skin beneath his weathered hands.

From there it’s smell. His scent so warm and familiar. She could pick him out of a crowd of thousands with just that scent to go by. Woodsy, yet notes of oil and gunpowder play into the medley.

Next is taste. His lips meeting hers. He remembers tasting her for the first time, a mission in Paris where they were supposed to be a couple. He stole a kiss, claimed it made for a good cover. She hadn’t argued even if she looked doubtful of his claim. But she’d kissed him back in Munich and said the same BS about dodging bad guys so maybe it worked. Maybe they were both just addicted to the taste of each other. Her teeth grazing the shell of his ear suggested as much.

Sound follows. The rush of breath in and out. Pearly moans that drop from her lips and build as they work each other. Grunts at the effort but soft gasps at the pleasure. She wonders for a moment how much of it he hears, aids sitting on the dresser top from where she’d helped him take them out.

Sight is last. Or maybe it was first. Sight gets abandoned to eyes closing at the intensity of his nearness, at her calling out his name. He drinks her in, scars and red hair, death in the form of a woman, a woman trying to be something more. A woman who chose him.

She pulls him close, memorizing his stellar blue-green eyes, getting lost in the sight of them.

He runs his fingers gently over her skin and they’re right back to touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for reading!


	12. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We all have our secrets

“I need your help keeping something a secret,” Clint informs Steve.

Cap raises a brow but nods. “What is it?”

Clint hands him a box, wrapped sloppily in red paper but the green ribbon looks nice. “Nat’s Christmas gift.”

Steve frowns. “You know she’ll sniff this out the moment I try to hide it somewhere. I’m not exactly a great spy, Barton.”

Clint shrugs. “Maybe that’s the point, boy scout.” He tucks his hands into his pockets. “Just… be careful with it.” He leaves.

Steve holds the box in two hands and wonders just what the hell he’s supposed to do with it. Natasha knows all. She’ll find it in mere moments. Well, he does have that one spot. Maybe there’s an off chance she’ll never find it there… 

…

“Did you get the box to Steve?”

Clint nods, putting an arm around Nat’s shoulders. “Good plan.” He kisses her cheek. “Not that I’m doubting you, but how did you know it would work?”

She sighs and takes the binoculars from her eyes, leaning into him. “Steve’s a pretty open book. An educated guess goes a long way with him.” She resumes her watching. “Plus he hid a valuable flash drive in a vending machine.”

Clint huffs a laugh and leans his head back, grateful for the car’s heater blasting warm air on his toes. New York winters are bad enough, let alone D.C.

“Got him.”

Clint opens his eyes and follows her sightline. Sure enough, he can just make out the shape of a tall brunette man, one sleeve dangling where it remains empty. “I’ll be damned. You were right. Steve’s been hiding the Winter Soldier.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.” She puts the binoculars aside. “We should tell Fury it was a bust.”

“He won’t believe that, you know.”

“No. But then I don’t have to be the one call it in.”

Clint nods, understanding the game. Secrets are currency for spies. This information could be more valuable down the line. So she’ll store it for now, even if Fury did explicitly ask them to find the Winter Soldier’s location. Then again, he’d probably known she’d store it, so maybe that was okay.

“By the way, I did actually get you something,” Clint starts. He reaches into his pocket to pull out a small box wrapped in silver and black. “Merry Christmas, Nat.”

She takes it carefully, still after all these years suspicious of such actions. She opens the box and grins at its contents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone! Hard to believe we're halfway through.


	13. Missions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gotta have standards

Agent Barton snapped his file shut and shoved it back across the desk to Coulson. “Nope.”

The senior agent didn’t even look away from his computer screen. “On what grounds?”

“It’s in Prague. Prague begins with a P.”

Coulson’s hands stilled as he turned towards his agent. “So?”

Barton leaned back far too casually in his chair. “Missions in places that begin with P always go wrong.” He ticked off, “Paris, Port-au-Prince, Princeton, c’mon, Phil. It’s cursed. You know it’s cursed when a mission goes wrong in Princeton, Indiana.”

Agent Coulson shook his head and resumed filling out his report. “You’re going, Barton. I’ll see you when you get back.”

…

“Nope,” Barton declared, closing the file on the desktop before him. “No way.”

Newly minted Agent Romanov spared him a glance, a sign she was near panicking at his outburst.

“On what grounds?” Sitwell demanded, head snapping up, pen hovering mid-air.

“It’s in Pali. Pali begins with a P, and all missions in places with a P go wrong.”

Agent Romanov flicked her eyes over to her newly assigned partner but otherwise didn’t show any of the adrenaline that was kicking in at his behavior. What kind of punishment must follow this level of insolence? 

“Are you seriously rejecting the mission, Agent Barton?” Sitwell inquired.

“Yep,” he popped the P as if playing off of his grounds for protest. “Give it to Mitchell and Rogan. We have a deal. They get my P’s and I get their I’s.”

Sitwell looked taken aback, but nodded, making a note in the file.

“Cool,” Barton finalized. “C’mon, Nat, let’s grab a burger before we’re shipped off to Istanbul or Idaho or something.”

She followed, standing gracefully despite how her heart was racing in her chest. She kept her eyes peeled the rest of the day for any sign of consequence for such behavior.

…

“Nope,” Barton announced.

Natasha closed her own copy of the file. “We decline.”

“On what grounds?” newly assigned Deputy Director Hill asked.

“It’s in Pavlohrad,” Clint answered.

“Pavlohrad begins with a P,” Natasha continued.

“And we don’t do missions that in places that start with P,” Barton finished.

Hill looked between the two to see if they were joking. Alarmingly they looked dead serious. “You’re refusing the mission because of some superstition?”

“Ain’t superstition if it’s true. Besides, Mitchell and Rogan take our P’s we get their I’s.

And at my last count, they owed us one, so…” He pushed his file across Hill’s desk eerily in time with Romanov.

“Pass,” the redhead declared. She rose from her seat, Barton following her, and they

strolled out the door, leaving Hill to wonder just what exactly she’d gotten herself into. She really should’ve read that note from Agent Coulson. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slipping this one in a little late. Sorry. Thanks for reading!


	14. Free Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet

“Eat it, c’mon.”

“I’m not eating ice cream from a food vendor in Central Park in January, Barton.”

“But it’s good, Nat. And we missed a bunch of this summer, being stuck in Tajikistan or wherever. Please. One bite?”

She rolled her eyes but took the offered spoonful of vanilla bean. It did taste pretty good. Not that she’d admit that. “Cold,” she answered instead.

He grinned. “Well I have a cure for that.” The hand not holding ice cream took hers in his, gloved fingers wrapping tightly.

“Was all this a ploy to hold my hand?”

“Nah, just good ice cream.”

But she could always tell when he was lying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone! I promise, promise, promise, I'll get to your lovely comments soon!!!


	15. Seasons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The changing of the (tv) seasons

It was something Natasha had had to get used to over the years. Her partner couldn’t tell you what day of the week it was, but did know exactly which TV show was by some innate ability to memorize TV guide schedules. Wednesdays from September to March were back-to-back episodes of Dog Cops and Paw and Order.

Summer seasons of Can You Survive This - a ridiculous game show featuring grand obstacles and bright colors - was a must for when either of them were recuperating in medical.

Winter consisted of reruns of old shows, some he’d tell her were on when he was a kid. The animated series from the 70s, The Adventures of Captain America, quickly became a Tower favorite, much to Steve’s dismay and Tony’s delight.

So maybe they bounced around the globe too much to keep track of the seasons at home. They had their own seasons in TV shows to fill that gap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading and commenting!


	16. Pets and Animals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love is a ball of fur

It had been a suggestion of Pepper’s years ago when Nat and Clint announced to the team the nature of their relationship. Write things to do on strips of paper and put them in a jar to pull out when the couple was looking for something to do together. Natasha knew immediately this was a Clint suggestion: go to local animal shelter to play with dogs.

She’d grumbled about it a bit. Animals had never been her thing. Pets were not a notion the Red Room held. Plus all the fur and claws and drool and excrement were a major turn off in her her opinion. But Barton had pleaded and she knew denying him the chance would be cruel. He’d always wanted a dog and had to give up the idea with how often they were gone on missions.

So as Natasha sat with a black cat sleeping in her lap and watched her partner bounce around with the dogs on the floor as if they were litter mates, yipping and playing tug-of-war with rope toys, smile from ear to ear, she had to admit this had been a great idea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone! You're the best!


	17. Days Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Broken people making the most of quiet moments

Natasha woke up later than normal, judging from how brightly lit the bedroom was. The smell of breakfast burning told her Clint had started the day before her. Stretching, she rose from the bed, leaving the rumpled sheets and throwing on some clothes.

“Morning,” she greeted, kissing his cheek and taking the pan of scrambled eggs off the burner before they turned even more brown.

“Morning,” he replied, sticking his finger in his mouth to cool down the burn on it from the bacon. Nat grinned and turned the stovetop off, pointing to the toaster for Clint to address the slabs of dark brown bread. Nothing a little butter wouldn’t recover.

They sat at the broken dining table, one crooked leg making the whole thing wobble, and ate in peaceful silence. His chipped mug of coffee and her recently handle-less tea cup steamed across from each other. He read a week-old news paper and she looked at her SHIELD tablet until the battery ran down from 12% to 0.

“New Degas exhibit,” he mentioned casually.

She hummed. “Jokomo’s just added stuffed crust pizza to their menu.”

He folded the paper, took a bite of rubbery eggs and burnt bacon. “Sounds like the perfect day off.”

She smiled. “I’ll go get dressed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone! :)


	18. Celebrations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celebrate in your own way

“Do not do the victory dance, Barton.”

“Aww, c’mon, Nat. It’s a good dance.”

“No.”

“You should do it with me, Tasha.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Please? We make such a great team and we deserve to celebrate our victory together.”

“You want to celebrate, take me to dinner.”

“Really? You mean that? Because I will. Take you to dinner that is. Any place you want to go.”

“If it means no victory dance, fine. Tuscano’s?”

“You got it. Although we’ll have to stop at my place first. I’ve only got mission clothes at SHIELD and I’m not taking my date to a fancy restaurant dressed like Rambo.”

“Who said anything about a date? It’s a victory dinner.”

“Oh.”

*Sigh. “Okay, fine. It’s a date.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. A date, a real date, me and you and dinner.”

“Aww yes! You’re gonna love it, Tasha.”

“I thought I said don’t do the dance.”

“You try not to dance when you’ve won a date with Natasha Romanov.”

“I’m going to regret this, right?”

“Nah, we’re going to fall in love.”

“Don’t count on it, hotshot.”

“Not even in my wildest dreams, princess.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much!! <3


	19. Quotes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word power

“It’s like my nan used to say,” Coulson prefaced, carefully sliding another chocolate pudding cup across the tray to his agent. Barton eyed it suspiciously but took it anyway - a show of trust Phil quietly filed away for later cheering. “Things have to get worse before they can get better.”

“She break her femur too?” Barton asked around a spoonful of pudding.

Phil bobbed his shoulders. “Not that I know of. But she did have some roller derby trophies in the attic next to a set of cross country skis. Was never sure what exactly to make of those.”

Barton huffed a laugh and continued to eat the offered dessert. Maybe this would work out after all.

…

“As they say, early bird gets the worm,” Sitwell chanted too cheerily for an 8AM call.

Clint rolled his eyes at his current handler’s voice chattering in his ear. “I’m telling you, it’s too soon. If I go now she’ll get the drop on me.” Plus there was something more to this woman. If she was truly the heartless robot they’d painted her to be, then why did she look so… tired? “Second mouse gets the cheese, right?”

Sitwell sighed. “Just get this mission over with, Barton.”

…

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, face blank but eyes holding an ember of fear, confusion, something very human.

“Because someone once told me ‘everyone should get a second chance, but you can only get a second chance once.” He dropped his bow. “So what do you say?”

The redheaded woman raised a brow but shifted from her spot on the ground where he’d pinned her. “I say yes.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much! I'll get to your comments as soon as my week slows down! <3


	20. Skills and Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Train for all eventualities

Tony wondered if the spy kids were pulling some kind of prank on him. The requests they had put in for their training room were ridiculous. Not impossible - there was no such thing, not to him - but ludicrous for sure. Full gun range, moving archery target, sparring mats, those were expected and normal, and all but finished. But hanging rings, circus silks, a ballet barre? What the hell were they planning to do in there? A three ring performance of Swan Lake?

He thought about asking but decided a against it. They requested it, he’d facilitate. But he was absolutely putting in cameras. For security purposes of course.

…

“You disable all the cameras?” Clint asked, taping up his hands and patting them down with chalk dust.

“Need you ask?” Nat answered, tying up the ribbons of her pointe shoes. She’d need new ones soon as this pair was almost shot. She made a mental note to ask JARVIS.

“Your turn to pick the music,” Clint mentioned as he wrapped the silks around his arms.

“JARVIS, play something from Steve’s workout list.”

“At once, Miss Romanov.”

“Steve’s huh?” Clint asked, doing a warm up flip in the silks.

Nat rose to her toes and then down into third position, stretching. “I like to see how much new pop music he’s liked.”

Clint laughed as the first few notes of Hollaback Girl began to play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all!!!


	21. Dates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Days to remember

Clint wasn’t all that great at living with the normal passage of time. He lost track of what day it was or in what month. He would be walking down the street or driving to SHIELD and suddenly realize it was Christmas only because the shops all had decorations in their windows. 

Natasha on the other hand could rattle off the date at the drop of a hat, could even tell you if the 21st of May fell on a Tuesday eight years ago. So when it came to remembering important dates, Nat had long ago devised a way to subtly remind her partner what was approaching.

“You changed your hair,” Clint stated. There used to be surprise behind the sentence but now it was simply a fact: she had indeed changed her hair. Clint glanced at the date on his phone, knowing this meant something. Nat seemed to always change her hair before anniversaries, birthdays, special them-only holidays. He figured it was some kind of exercising her freedom to change a piece about herself brought on by thoughts of whatever celebration was coming up. But the date, March 19th, didn’t ring a bell, and neither did any of the days surrounding it. “Just feeling like a change?” he attempted to feel her out.

She shrugged a shoulder. “Something like that.”

Well that was no help. “Hey, um, Bruce mentioned having us over next weekend, introduce us to that woman he’s been seeing. We free?”

Nat nodded. “I already RSVPed. Trisha seems nice.”

So that was a bust too. New hair. March 19th. 20th? 21st? “Alright, I give up. What holiday am I missing?”

“What do you mean?” God, how she could play confused and innocent so perfectly.

“You’ve changed your hair.” Clint pointed to the new shorter curls that had replaced her straight shoulder length hours earlier. “Usually means we’re celebrating something.”

She grinned. “We are.” She pulled a small wrapped box from her interior pocket in her jacket. She handed it over to a highly suspicious Clint. He unwrapped it carefully, mind churning up all kinds of possibilities of what could be inside. But when he saw the contents his mind shut down completely. “Nat?” he breathed.

“Looks like you’ll have one more date to remember,” she said, smile positively beaming as she leaned down to kiss his cheek. Clint’s fingers almost shook as he carefully pulled the sonogram from the box.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all are the best and I promise I'll get to your lovely comments soon! It's been absolutely manic on my end this week, but here's hoping for a relaxing holiday!


	22. Free Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jump right in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mentions of PTSD and cancer related surgery

When Steve and Bucky had announced they were hosting a dinner party at their new house upstate, Natasha immediately had begun coming up with excuses for why she could not attend: her firm had a difficult case the next morning and she’d need to rest up, her cat was sick, she was sick, her boss was hosting dinner that night; the list went on. But then Steve managed to drop that also on the guest list was Bucky’s old war buddy, one recently-but-not-too-recently divorced Clint Barton, and the list began instantly shrinking.

Ever since Bucky’s Welcome Home party several years ago, she’d found herself thinking of Barton as a safe fantasy. Like a celebrity or fictional character, he was just a figment of her imagination when the occasion for such flights of fancy arose. Tall but not overly so, well muscled, sandy blonde hair, and blue-green eyes that looked directly into one’s soul and crinkled on the edges from laugh lines and too much Middle Eastern sun.

He’d been married at the time, and therefore off the books. But Steve had made it a point to subtly inform her when Barton’s marriage was on the rocks and subsequently over. She felt bad, she really did, for the spark of hope that went through her. It would be wrong of her to pounce so soon. So she’d waited. And when Steve let it slide that Barton had been looking to get back into the game, well… 

I’ll be there, she texted back to the invite. Need me to bring anything?

Steve didn’t reply for a few hours, but eventually said, Yourself and a swimsuit. We’re opening up the pool.

Instantly she regretted affirming her invitation. She hated swimming. The sun was a problem with pale skin, and the chlorine messed with her hair. Not to mention a two-piece was out of the question ever since that surgery she’d had a few years ago. Nothing like a few cancer-ridden ovaries to say bye-bye to bikinis. Still, the idea of single Clint Barton in a pair of swim trunks made for a viable bribe. So she dug out her trusty forest green one piece with the fancy cutouts in the back and began psyching herself up.

…

“You didn’t tell me she was going to be here,” Clint hissed to Bucky as the man walked them out to the patio and small pool in the backyard.

“Yeah, ‘cause I knew you’d chicken out,” Bucky whispered back, poking his friend in the arm. “Ya big chicken.”

“God, Bucky, she’s so… guh.”

“Well said, Hawkbutt.”

“You know what I mean. She’s smart and wickedly talented. Have you followed any of her court cases?”

“No, I’m not a stalked like you.”

“She’s incredible. And she’s just so… hot. Ughhh, Bucky!”

“She’s also single. And if Steve’s signal reading is correct, which it usually is as long as it doesn’t involve himself, then she’s interested.”

“Like, as in interested in me?”

“No, in parabolic fletching. Yes, you.”

Clint shifted his towel to his other shoulder, glad he’d remembered to wear the fancy, water-proof, Stark hearing aids instead of his every-day BTEs. “Does she know?” he pointed to his ears.

Bucky shrugged. “Why don’t you find out.” He waved to Natasha who was sitting on the edge of the pool, legs dangling in the water, chatting with Sharon - a friend of Steve’s from college. “Dinner’s in about twenty minutes so go work your magic, Hawkeye.”

“Hi, um, I’m Clint. Not sure if you remember me but…”

“I remember you. Natasha.” She extended her hand and he took it. Oh, those were nice hands. “You served with Bucky, right?”

“Yes, ma’am. Best snipers the US Army ever had.” 

“Well we were lucky to have you.”

Sharon excused herself, taking the moon-eyes the pair was making at each other as her cue to leave.

“How do you know Steve and Bucky?” Clint asked, setting his towel down and dipping his own feet into the water. It felt nice, cool, refreshing.

“I worked the patent legal case for Stark Industries and gave Bucky his arm.” She frowned. “It’s kind of a boring story.”

“Nah, I think it’s cool. I got Stark Tech you helped patent too.”

She raised an inquisitive brow.

Now or never, Hawkeye. He pointed to his ear closest to her. “IED knocked my brain around a bit. Bruised it real good. Lost a lot of my hearing.”

“Sorry to hear that.” She looked out at the ripples in the pool a moment, unsure what to say to that. “They’re waterproof, right?”

He nodded.

A lull. Shit.

“So um-”

“Are you-”

They both stopped. Clint motioned for her to go first.

“You want to go for a swim?”

He smiled. “Yeah, actually. I’d like that.”

She tucked her sunglasses away and he pulled off his shirt - Natasha about dying at the sight of him.

“You a steps kind a girl, or do ya jump right in?”

Natasha grinned. “Oh, I always jump right in.”

Clint beamed back. “Me too.”

And together they made one hell of a splash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much! 
> 
> I'm going to try really hard to finish this out before the 25th, but my holiday is looking rather busy. Nevertheless it will get done... just maybe on the 29th or 30th.


	23. AUs and Crossovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People change and then they don't

Bounty hunting wasn’t as bad a job as some. It brought in money and the ridded the world of scum, so Clint Barton found it often to be a win-win scenario. Plus with a bit of a reputation as an outlaw himself - Hawkeye, the would-be criminal raised by Indians - he found it was some of the only work he could get.

Still, spending day in and day out huntin’ bad guys takes a toll on a man’s spirit, and he found himself in need of refreshing his tail-dusted soul. Which, coupled with rumors of the Red Room Bath House’s selection of amenities, was why he brought himself to a small town out in Kansas Territory. That and other whispers of a red haired woman in need of being brought to justice. One doesn’t just snap a man’s neck and get away with it, least of all six times.

“May we help you sir?” a slender blonde woman with forever long legs asked at the reception desk upon his entrance. The bath house was nice, adorned with soft lamps and rich furniture. Copper pipes ran across the length of the ceiling, none yet green with oxidation.

“Bath, please,” he answered. “And a drink.” He dug out some coins and placed them on the counter.

“Any company?” the blonde asked, batting her lashes.

He’d admit he was tempted. But that wasn’t the goal of the evening. “No, ma’am. Just the bath and drink, please.”

She pursed her lips before handing him a folded towel and instructing him to bathroom number four to the left, informing him his drink would be brought there. Barton tipped his hat to the lady and made his way through the steamy timbers of the back part of the house.

The water felt nice, cool yet not cold, and fresh. Soup bubbled on his skin, a perfume of some kind added to the water had him relaxing almost instantly. He laid his head back against the lip of the porcelain tub and breathed in the steam. It wasn’t until he felt cold metal on his temple did he realize the water had been dosed.

“Hey Widow,” he greeted without even opening his eyes. “Remember me?” 

“The Hawk,” she answered, accent as heavy as the scented water. “How could I forget?”

He cracked open a lid. Yep, still as beautiful as the day she’d walked out of his life so many years ago. “You really gonna shoot a man in his bath?”

She remained blank-faced. But the gun eased up slightly from his forehead.

“Heard you separated some skulls from spines back East. They deserve it?”

“They beat women,” she answered without hesitation. “Forced themselves on them.”

Barton sighed. “They deserved worse than that, then.”

The gun fell from his head. “I wanted to make them suffer, but…”

He opened his eyes, took her in. She was tired, dark circles under her eyes to match the darkness inside them. His beautiful ballerina taking the stages in St. Louis, long gone. Then again, that had been a cover so what did he really know?

“Are you going to take me in, Clint?”

He shook his head. “Just here for a bath and a drink. And to confirm where you been.”

“I do not plan to stay here.”

“Neither do I, darlin.” He smiled up at her. Time had changed her but he could still see the girl he’d fallen in love with underneath. (They didn’t call him Hawkeye for nothing.) He just hoped she could see the boy she’d fallen for underneath his weathered exterior too.

“You did not ask for company,” she noted.

He shrugged.

“Would you mind if I stayed?”

“Grab me a drink, darlin. And you can stay as long as you like.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone!


	24. Traditions and Routines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not all traditions are traditional

Natasha and her routines, Clint mused one morning, turning over in bed to find the other side empty and Nat’s running shoes gone. She always started the day with a run, then light breakfast, then more thorough workout. It was something they’d conditioned into her from a very young age and something neither time nor deprogramming had been able to break. She’d mentioned once how it made her feel predictable - a death sentence for spies - but Clint had countered that SHIELD was pretty safe and heavily armed so it might not be a terrible thing to cling to if it gave her some stability. So yeah, she had her morning routine.

Clint?

Morning was crap shoot. Some days he’d wake up early and workout or do paperwork, others he’d sleep in until almost noon. He’d eat lunch for breakfast or leftovers from dinner and like hell there was ever going to be a set time. Routine was not his thing.

He checked his phone, blinking for a moment at the date.

Routine was not his thing but traditions were. And if it truly was December 24th, then he had a lot of ground to make up if he was going to pull off their tradition of cookies and cocoa and Nerf wars.

Clint tossed off the sheets and pulled on some clothes, sniffing at them as he did. He began making a list in his head of everything he’d need to get when he stopped short at the kitchen table. Nat set down the shopping bags and grinned up at him. “Morning, sleepy head.” She was in workout gear but had her purse still across her shoulder. “I caught the store on the way back and good news, that German chocolate you like was on sale.” She began unpacking the bags, strewing cookie ingredients all over the table. “I checked before I left and we still have plenty of glow in the dark tape for our Nerf battle tonight. I think the guns are in storage so you’ll have to go downstairs to get them and the ammo but-”

“I love you.”

She looked up.

Clint’s smile spread wider. “God, Nat, just... “

And thankfully she got it, read it easily and understood what he meant. She’d remember and wanted to do this and was helping him make it happen. It was their thing and like, wow, they had a thing and…

“Love you too, Barton. But don’t think for one second I’ll take it easy on you tonight.”

“That a promise?” he raised a smarmy brow and took a step closer.

She lowered her gaze to look at him through her lashes, voice dropping. “It can be.” She bat her eyes and Clint rolled his.

“Quit trying to seduce me, Tasha. I’m already sold.”

She kissed him, smiling into it. “Good.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super sorry for the delay! I've been busy with family this holiday. Hope enjoy all enjoyed!


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The weird zone between Christmas and New Year's

“Well a holly jolly fuck you to you too!” Clint screamed at the Hydra agent currently pointing a gun at his head.

It had started off a little shady, he’d admit that now that the outcome had been revealed. A note had been left at his apartment for him to meet the mysterious writer at a place in Queens. And yeah, okay, a warehouse should’ve screamed trap. But he’d spent enough time with elite spies like Fury and May and Nat that a warehouse off the docks wasn’t all that strange a place to meet. And if he was being completely honest, he’d kinda been hoping it was some sexy ruse put on by Natasha as some kind of “sorry I spent Christmas in Stalingrad taking down bad guys; Happy early New Years, new boyfriend who I’ve only been officially dating for four months.” Wishful thinking, he knew. And now with a Nazi aiming a gun at his skull it all seemed so obvious.

“Where is the Widow?” the Hydra agent asked again. “The Red Skull wants to know.”

“Has he checked his fat red ass?” Clint countered. It earned him a punch to the mouth, but so what. He was angry at himself for being so dumb and hopeful and maybe a good sock to the kisser was exactly what he deserved for it.

“You are her lover. I can use you to flush her out.”

“Dude, she’s not even in the country.” Uhg, the taste of metallic blood coated his tongue.

A gun’s hammer clicked as it was cocked and Clint fought the urge to wince. But instead he saw the Hydra agent stiffen and the barrel of a Glock slide into view. “You sure about that?”

Oh God, that voice! Smokey and rich, like velvet or a good whiskey, something you wanted to feel and taste and just utterly drown in. Wow, he had it bad.

The Hydra agent slowly raised his hands, gun pulling away from Clint’s head. From there it was pud for Nat to take him out, tagging him with a GeoMarker for SHIELD to come pick him up for further questioning.

“Hey, babe,” she greeted a still somewhat stunned Clint, tucking her gun away.

“Hey darling.”

“You didn’t seriously let this moron fool you, did you?”

Clint shrugged. “I missed you. Clouded my judgement.”

Natasha frowned deeply at that. “Clint-”

“No, no, I get it. I was stupid and dumb and reckless and now you have to break up with my stupid, dumb, reckless ass because I jeopardized you and your mission and you can’t have that. I know the song and dance, Tasha.” He dabbed at the blood on his mouth with his shirtsleeve. He wasn’t expecting the gentle hand curling around his bicep.

“Is that what you want?” Her face looked neutral but Clint could see a thread of fear in her eyes.Huh?

“Of course not.”

She nodded, taking it in slowly. Then she leaned up and kissed him, nevermind the blood still coloring his lips. “Good,” she whispered, lips brushing his. “I’d hate for my rescue to be wasted.”

“How did you find me?”

She pulled further away and if the Black Widow could blush she would’ve. “Maybe you weren’t the only one who was left a note.”

Clint’s jaw dropped. “Did you fall into a trap-” 

“Hush!”

Clint grinned and wrapped her in his arms. “Shut me up, then.”

She smirked back and kissed him hard. “Merry late Christmas, Clint.”

“Happy, early New Year, Nat.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you thank you thank you all so much for celebrating the season with me. I hope you all enjoyed this little calendar. I promise to get to your lovely comments soon! Happy Holidays and let's hope 2019 is a good year. :)


End file.
